Happy New Year! Still haven’t officially started training here—woopsy. I guess I’m not nervous, considering I usually run 3-4 miles about five times a week without thinking its that big of a deal. When the training schedule starts to have bigger mileage numbers on it then I’ll start taking it seriously. Do I sound like a serial procrastinator or what? I’m not, honestly.
If I was nervous about the training I would probably not have stayed up until 3am last night (doing absolutely nothing but trying to get out of the party we attended—no offense to the hosts, of course). Why do we have to stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve anyway? Can’t they broadcast midnight from somewhere else in the world so we can just get it over with and go to bed already? We could be here, in Boston, watching London’s ball drop (do they have the stupid ball drop or is that just us?), finishing our dinner, walking the dog, and tucking ourselves into bed by 10pm at the latest. That would be an ideal New Year’s night for me, sound asleep in my own cozy bed, starting my second REM cycle as everyone else in America counts down, drinks one too many glasses of crap sparkly wine, and then twiddles their thumbs as they wonder if they will look lame if they leave the party first.
Honestly, have you ever heard someone say they had a fabulous New Year’s Eve? Most people I talk to wonder the same question. So who’s having all the fun out there? Carson Daly with his million live viewers in Times Square? Not really, he can’t even get tanked, which, frankly is the reason everyone tries to make New Year’s Eve a big deal in the first place. Everyone gets January 1st off work, unless they have a really awful job or boss (or are really smart and know the parties will be lame so they volunteer to come in) and oftentimes it’s a free weekday so everybody sees it as a good excuse as any to get hammered. Plus, they know they have a full day to ice their puffy face and hydrate their red, veiny hungover eyes and lie on the couch watching garbage on tv and not feeling bad about it.
It’s always fun to see friends, which is what I did this New Year’s, so don’t get me wrong, I’m not as miserable a hermit as you might imagine. In the grand scope of training for a marathon though, New Year’s Eve doesn’t rise very high on my ladder of fun and important things to spend my time and energy on. Oh well. You know I’ll try again next year. Stupidly.
If I was nervous about the training I would probably not have stayed up until 3am last night (doing absolutely nothing but trying to get out of the party we attended—no offense to the hosts, of course). Why do we have to stay up until midnight on New Year’s Eve anyway? Can’t they broadcast midnight from somewhere else in the world so we can just get it over with and go to bed already? We could be here, in Boston, watching London’s ball drop (do they have the stupid ball drop or is that just us?), finishing our dinner, walking the dog, and tucking ourselves into bed by 10pm at the latest. That would be an ideal New Year’s night for me, sound asleep in my own cozy bed, starting my second REM cycle as everyone else in America counts down, drinks one too many glasses of crap sparkly wine, and then twiddles their thumbs as they wonder if they will look lame if they leave the party first.
Honestly, have you ever heard someone say they had a fabulous New Year’s Eve? Most people I talk to wonder the same question. So who’s having all the fun out there? Carson Daly with his million live viewers in Times Square? Not really, he can’t even get tanked, which, frankly is the reason everyone tries to make New Year’s Eve a big deal in the first place. Everyone gets January 1st off work, unless they have a really awful job or boss (or are really smart and know the parties will be lame so they volunteer to come in) and oftentimes it’s a free weekday so everybody sees it as a good excuse as any to get hammered. Plus, they know they have a full day to ice their puffy face and hydrate their red, veiny hungover eyes and lie on the couch watching garbage on tv and not feeling bad about it.
It’s always fun to see friends, which is what I did this New Year’s, so don’t get me wrong, I’m not as miserable a hermit as you might imagine. In the grand scope of training for a marathon though, New Year’s Eve doesn’t rise very high on my ladder of fun and important things to spend my time and energy on. Oh well. You know I’ll try again next year. Stupidly.
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